


Don't Forget Where You Belong

by ratsauce



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Childhood Anxiety, Dom Liam, Dom Niall, Dom Zayn, Dom/sub, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, OT5, Sub Harry, Sub Louis, Suicide Attempt, past anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 06:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2682716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratsauce/pseuds/ratsauce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Sometimes the only way to get better is to start form your past.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Forget Where You Belong

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Wattpad.  
> Original note: "Based off this stroke of genius from a convo with my bae:  
> 'Harry could have anxiety, too. So, like, suppose someone Tweeted him about it and like he freaked the fuck out? Could happen.. Maybe he drops? Maybe? No? Cool.'  
> Title from ? _Don't Forget Where You Belong_ by One Direction. Wanted to name it Frozen and Can't Breathe but that was too obvious I guess? Idk." Okay. But seriously if you see a mistake tell me so I don't embarrass myself.

He can think back to all the times he's had a panic attack. Every single one from when he was an "over dramatic" little boy in prep school, cowering and having a meltdown on the cold, tiled hallway floors as the older kids either laughed at him, or stood staring down at him with a disgusted gaze.

He can recall the first time he ever had an attack. His mum and Gemma had taken him to the doctor and they had seen that something went wrong with the last surgery on his tonsils, and that a section of his throat was left scarred as a result. He remembers how the colour had drained from his mother's face, and he remembers how she had mumbled _nothing ever goes right with this boy_ under her breath. He remembers that she had tried to say it quietly, and had failed, and he had heard. He'd panicked for a good fifteen minutes after, because, he didn't want to upset his mummy anymore and he thought that he was "always broken".

He can think back to every moment he's ever felt his stomach drop before his breathing would start to pick up, before he's full on hyperventilating. Cold sweat on his skin, tears rolling down his cheeks, and the crippling thought that _no one wants him_ , and that _he's not supposed to feel this way_ , but he does because he's _stupid_.

~

Harry's sitting on the carpeted lounge floor of his and Liam's house. He can't remember dropping his phone, but it's sure as hell on the floor now. And he's incredbly cold. The lounge wasn't this cold a few minutes ago.

He looks up from where he's been staring at his bare thighs, before he remembers what was wrong in the first place and looks back down. _Someone knows. How could they know?_  He's smiled and acted carefree and reckless with Louis, all to make sure no one would ever find out, but clearly someone _did_ and, fuck.

Not even the people he knows and trusts have any idea that he has anxiety. None of the boys know, and neither does the majority of his family. They can't know; they'd be disappointed. They'd be hurt. The boys would kick him out the band, his family would disown him. They wouldn't love him anymore.

Gemma knows, because she's the one who held him tight as he freaked out that first time, and the times after.

In Harry's head, it all comes back down to Gemma. Gemma has been his rock for years.

He thinks bitterly that it wouldn't have been all that bad if he had died all those years back, if Gemma hadn't decided she wanted to leave her purse and had to come back into the house. If she hadn't considered needing her toothbrush and toothpaste in said purse because she hadn't known if she would have been staying overnight at her friend's flat.

He would have laid on the cold tile floor of his bathroom and had the asthma attack long enough that his oxygen would run out and he would die. But, he only passed out for a minute before Gemma was there, calling their mum and an ambulance. He wouldn't have to disappoint anyone anymore if Gemma didn't come back. He wouldn't have to hide who he is anymore. Psychotic, stupid, and unstable.

He wishes Gemma never came back, because, now, someone found out his secret and is making fun of him.

He's been happy with his boys. He's been doing so much better than he was five years ago. He's surrounded by people who want the best for him, who take care of him, make him feel loved, make him stop hurting without even knowing they possess the power, but they do.

Harry shudders at the thought of them knowing. They'd think he's a freak. A big, ugly, freak that they don't want anymore, that doesn't deserve their love. He's disappointing everyone. Again.

He chokes on the air that he knows isn't making it's way into his lungs and starts sobbing. He's still cold and- scratch that, he's fucking _freezing_ , and the back of his neck feels prickly.

He knows the whole world (including the boys) has seen the tweet by now and have re-posted it and he just can't do that to the people he loves again.

He can't remember the details of the tweet. He honestly can't. He can't remember anything other than how cold he is and how much he fucked up and that his Doms hate him now and- where _are_ his Doms? Because he needs them, but they're never coming back, are they?

Harry doesn't know why he starts thinking about Zayn specifically, but he does. Zayn's really nice; Harry guesses that's why he thought about him first. Zayn could bring him back up pretty quickly just by singing one of their slower songs. Like Half a Heart. Or Little Things. Maybe. Even Liam or Niall could do that.

But this- this, definitely, is not okay. Not at all. Zayn's not here to serenade him. None of them are here to serenade him. Or scratch behind his ear. Or kiss his nose. They've all left him. They're gone. They saw the tweet and are gone. He's gonna have to die alone, on the lounge floor of Liam's and his house.

And with that thought, he's even colder than before. Because Niall told him once that they'd never leave him, and here he is, hyperventilating on his own, by himself, on the floor.

At some point, his body decided that it could no longer support itself, so he's lying on his side and the carpet is rubbing against his cheek. It's really uncomfortable, but it's nice because it's pain and he deserves that right now because his Doms don't love him anymore and they're probably on their way to the airport with Louis.

Louis' their good boy, not him. Louis does everything right. Not him.

He's suddenly aware that he's digging the heels of his palms into his eyes to stop himself from crying. Okay, maybe it's for the pain, because that's not something he usually does; he'd be quicker to pinch the bridge of his nose than press his eyes in.

Okay, it's definitely for the pain aspect because he can still feel the tears rolling down his cheeks, so pressing on his eyes isn't really helping. The pain is something to focus on.

How long as it been since he's been like this? Shivering and alone on the floor and crying and pressing his eyes back into his skull?

There's a pair of strong hands on his shoulders, and another on his waist. Someone's kneeling in front of him, trying to talk to him. A flash of bleached blond hair is all he can make out, because now that he's actually trying to use his eyes he realises that his vision's blurry.

He's being sat up by someone, and someone else is drapping a thick blanket across his shoulders. He can't place names now, but he knows who it is. It's someone familiar and nice. Why the person is here is what Harry doesn't understand, because he fucked up so royally.

The person lifting him just set him on the couch. Someone else is calling his name- actually, two someone elses are calling his name. One sounds steady and firm, and the other is breaking and bordering on hysteric. That causes him to panic more, because that's _Louis_ crying. For him. He's upsetting someone. Again. That's all he does: fucking upset and disappoint people and make them sad.

And he's wheezing now, because he's stupid and forgot to breathe and he has asthma.

Niall's eyes widen (because, yeah, he can see better now and can identify people) once he notices him struggling to breathe and for a second, Harry swears he sees panic behind the usually calm, blue eyes. And that's not helping his breathing now.

"His inhaler? Where is it?" His voice is distorted as the words cut through the thick, piled up snow around Harry's head, but he knows he's addressing someone behind him. He looks around wildly.

It's Liam who's holding him against the back of the couch and draping another blanket around him, and Niall's still kneeling in front of him. Louis' still crying, and it's definitely his name that he's sobbing. Zayn is holding onto Louis and trying to get him into the next room, but Louis' fighting desperately to get over to him.

He can see that Louis' about to drop, too, and so does Zayn, so the latter quickly scoops him up and carries him out.

He's starting to feel a little better, but thinking about Louis is bringing back down to the cold, like a grabby creature with claws pulling him into an icy abyss. Suddenly he really wants a hug from Louis, even though he's a grabby creature with claws.

"Harry? Babe, focus on me now for a second, yeah?" Niall's gone and Liam's in front of him, his hand resting on his chest lightly. Harry coughs before making an unintelligible ' _nngh_ ' sound. Liam moves his hand down to Harry's upper thigh instead and grips it tightly.

It's not at all tentative and it's firm and it's just so _Liam_ that it makes Harry a little more comfortable in his own skin. He looks up, his jade green eyes meeting Liam's big, warm, chocolate brown ones. Eye contact is allowed during emergencies, so he doesn't have to look away.

"That's really good, Hazza. Such a good boy for me."

There they are, those two words: _good boy_. He basks in the glory of them, even though he's absolutely sure he's fucked up. He knows his Dom wouldn't lie to him, though: wouldn't tell him that he's been a good boy if he didn't mean it.

And that's why they came back, right? That's why they're here. Harry goes to sigh, but forgets that he's in the middle of an asthma attack so it just comes out as a cough. "Just focus on what I'm saying, okay? Can you do that?" Liam asks, squeezing his thigh again.

Harry nods, or, tries to nod. He isn't sure if he did it correctly because he's not really in control of his body at all right now.

And Niall's back, but he looks flushed and a tad bit panicky again. Not a good look on him. He's panting, and his hands are shaking slightly where they hang at his sides. "I can't find it," he says breathlessly, coming back over to them.

Harry whimpers then, because the medicine ran out a week ago and he threw it out.

"Okay, babycakes. You're fine. We're here, and you're fine. You're doing so good for us. I'm so proud of you. Niall's proud of you, too."

Harry makes a pleased sound low in his chest and as Liam takes his hand in his.

"We can't find your inhaler, so we're gonna call Paul," that bit is directed towards Niall, who nods and pulls out his phone to make the call. "to get one to you. But we need you to calm down first. You need to come back up for us." Harry nods, even though he's shocked that all of those words even made it into his brain.

He's considerably warmer, and the snow around him has melted into water, so it still isn't allowing things to get through to him as quickly. He tries to snuggle down into his blanket, but the movement hurts his chest so he sits back up and coughs until his head throbs.

Niall mouths something to Liam, who nods in response, before walking into the other room. That's when he remembers Louis.

"Lou?" He wheezes out, looking back at the door Zayn carried Louis through. He shifts like he's about to get up, but he falls back with a pained whimper as his chest tightens a bit more.

"No, babe, focus on your breathing." Liam commands gently, alternating the grip on his thigh.

Even though Harry really wants Louis, he's gonna wait until he's breathing, because Liam told him to.

"Stay focused." Liam the hand that was on Harry's thigh and uses two fingers to draw imaginary lines in the space between their eyes, telling him to keep his eyes on his. Harry looks up and whimpers when he sees that Liam's eyes are watering. He holds his gaze though, and tries not to panic anymore as his head goes light for a second.

Just then, Zayn walks out of the room he was in and in the direction of the front door.

"Can you lean forward for me?" Liam cups Harry's cheek gently, reaching around his body to push his back forward a bit. Harry nods, because, as if on cue, he's even more light headed. And he knows that leaning forward will get more air into his lungs.

"Good, babe, good. I'm gonna leave you with Zayn now, okay?" Liam says before standing from his crouched position and walking away. Zayn takes his place before Harry can complain, pulling the blue dispenser from behind his back and shaking it three times. His chest aches more and more for each rattle of the pressurised canister and he gasps, futiley trying to get some relief.

"Love, could you open up for me?" Zayn says, leaning forward so that the bones of his elbows are digging into Harry's thighs. The pain calms Harry enough for him to open his mouth, whimpering as Zayn places the mouthpiece of the inhaler between his lips. The puffs come quickly after and have Harry exhaling deeply within seconds. He coughs once more and slumps against the back of the couch, feeling the pressure lessen on his head and chest.

Harry doesn't have any energy anymore so he allows his eyes to slip shut, his breaths deep.

"That's it, baby. You handled it so well." Zayn praises him, getting up to sit beside him and pulling him into his arms. Harry sighs and snuggles into Zayn's collarbone. He mewls as Zayn pulls him into his lap, allowing him to hide his face in the crook of his neck.

~

"H, babe. You with me?" Zayn's soothing voice wakes him up slowly. Oh yeah. He dropped and then fell asleep in Zayn's lap.

"Harry, I love you, but you're heavy,"

As Harry becomes more aware of his surroundings, he hears that Zayn's voice is a little groggy, so that means he probably fell asleep, too. Harry hums and opens his eyes, looking up into his eyes. He thinks he can still do that, maybe.

"How're you doing? And use your words," Zayn asks, pulling Harry's earlobe gently. Harry considers his answer carefully before he voices it.

"I'm okay. But, Louis? Is he okay?" He says slowly, voice a little raspy, making Zayn smile a little.

"Louis dropped, baby. But Liam's taking care of him." Zayn informs him.

"Did I make him drop?" Harry sits up, worried that because of his over-sensitivity, Louis had gotten hurt.

"Babe, no, it wasn't your fault. The circumstances were strenuous." Zayn says, sounding a little heartbroken. Harry relaxes back into his Dom's warm embrace, but doesn't entirely believe him.

"Is there any possibility that I could see him?" Harry asks timidly instead of answering, biting his lips as Zayn rocks them from side. The latter nods, calling out for Niall and asking him to get Liam and Louis.

Zayn scoots them over until they're closer to the arm rest as Liam comes out, Louis on his hip. Louis' arms are wrapped around his neck. Harry perks up, watching as Liam sits to their left.

Harry notes how pliant Louis is as Liam shifts him around and seats him in his lap.

Louis looks up from where his face is pressed against Liam's collarbone and frowns, and that's when Harry realises that he's crying.

"Why are you crying?" Louis frowns, reaching out to thumb away the single tear that had fallen. Harry reaches out to hold Louis' fingers against his skin.

"Are you okay?" Harry asks, surprised at the steadiness in his own voice, but is proud nonetheless.

"Yeah, I'm fine now. But, you're _not_ ," Louis mumbles. Zayn, Liam and Niall are talking over their heads, but the conversation is clearly not directed to them, so they don't listen.

"I was worried, because you dropped. But if you're okay then I'll be okay," Harry tries to smile, and Louis returns it.

"I'm fine." Louis sighs, and Harry kisses his fingers before letting them go.

~

Later that evening, the whole band retires to Liam's bedroom. They're arranged so that they're all touching eachother somehow, with Harry in the middle of it. Harry feels much more relaxed being surrounded like this.

None of them pressure him into telling them what happened, because they know he will when he wants to. He does show them the tweet after a while- well, he simply hands them the phone, burying his face into Niall's shirt as Zayn takes the phone out his hand. Liam reaches over and knowingly opens the Twitter icon, and they all huddle closer to read the Tweet Harry had left open.

" _@cyrus_syrup_tongue:_

_:( @Harry_Styles eugh your such a spoilt brat! Crying because he f'ed up ONE performnce. New he was oversensitive, but I never though he had spastic panic attacks too? Wtf Harry stop being so stupid about stuff . Overdrmatic babyyyyy."_

Niall grabs the phone from Liam and throws it. Harry flinches as it connects with the wall, the screen shattering. Zayn's hands are on Niall's shoulders before Harry even completes the flinch. Niall mumbles a quick _I'm fine_ before exhaling and looking down at Harry.

"Harry? Love? Listen to me: I'm gonna ask you a question, and you're gonna answer truthfully and in the way you know how to answer." He pauses, looking into Harry's eyes as the younger man sits up. He gulps, casting his eyes downward. "Why did that tweet make you panic?"

The way he had said it made it clear he wanted the truth, but Harry's not sure he can give it to him. He doesn't try to hold back his whimper, because Niall just tipped his head up with a finger under his chin, and Zayn is using his knuckle to knead at the base of his spine, and Liam has hand on Harry's wrist, gripping it tightly but stroking his thumb gently over his pulse. And Harry just melts into the three sets of hands. It's all so much, and it's perfect.

"I used to have bad when I was younger." he stutters out finally, risking a glance up and watching as Niall's gaze immediately softens and his hand moves to cup his cheek, then drops to his neck. Zayn's massage falters for a millisecond before it comes back on his hip, stronger than ever, and Liam tightens his grip on his wrist.

He shudders out a breath and continues, "Back when I was younger, around five or six, my asthma was really bad. Right after a major attack that I had to get hospitalised for, I got tonsillitis. I got my tonsils removed, but something happened and the surgery got screwed up. A section of my throat was left scarred," Harry stops, and they're still watching him, so he powers through the lump in his throat and continues.

"My mum had said something that day that triggered the first attack. Panic attack, that is," he trails off and bites his lip, feeling all prickly again. Zayn, Niall and Liam squeeze his hip, neck and wrist respectfully all at once, and Harry relaxes again.

"That was the first panic attack of many I had over the next decade. Gemma helped with them as best as she could, but it wasn't enough. I didn't forgive my mum for the- comment," he says, shuddering a little. "and when I finally realised that I needed to get better, and that being around her wasn't helping, I auditioned for X-Factor, and met you lot. I patched up my mum and I's relationship right after, when you told me how important it was to stay in touch with family.

I'm better, now, though. The panic is replaced by drops and those don't happen often, except, well- today. And all of you help me, even though you didn't know, and it's okay. I'm okay." Harry concludes, looking down shyly.

"Good. Thank you for telling us, babe. You did well." Zayn says from behind him. Liam's looking down at Louis, who looks a bit teary. Liam leans forward to whisper into his ear, and Louis perks up at his words.

He nods furiously and looks over to Harry expectantly. Harry cocks his head to the side, wordlessly asking Louis what he wants. Louis girns, vampire teeth visible and pointed as ever, and opens his arms wide.

Harry gets the gist quickly, smiling all dimple-y, and crawls into Louis arms, nuzzling into his shirt. He inhales deeply, and notes that he smells like a combination of all of them. And Harry loves it. He mumbles _cuddle pile_ into Louis' chest and smiles as he feels the other three boys curl around them. He tilts his head up and kisses the underside of Louis' jaw, sighing.

He'll never forget who was, but he'll never forget where he belongs, either.

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiii. I'm sorry. But, yeah. 
> 
> my [main tumblr](http://dissocihate.tumblr.com/) and my [other blogs](http://dissocihate.tumblr.com/others).


End file.
